


Of Trinkets and Time Travel.

by jldew



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Brakebills (The Magicians), F/M, Gen, Good Tom Riddle, M/M, Pre-Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Sane Tom Riddle, Time Travel, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-11-04 16:16:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17901410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jldew/pseuds/jldew
Summary: A self insert finds himself in Tom Riddle's body, just before receiving a visit from Albus Dumbledore. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

We've all read this story. A little boy with a lightning scar and uncaring relatives. The spitting image of his father, with the eyes of his mother. Five trinkets, a deadly reptile, and our hero. a goblin blade, and three friends who took on the greatest evil, and earned their happy ending.

Or, someone decides to mix it up, throw in a ROB, a dash of humor, and ends up with a SI waking up in the cupboard just as owl's make their delivery and change the little orphan's life for the better. They fix everything. The love interest's psychological trauma is averted. The rat is caught. The godfather is pardoned. The spare is saved. The statues never come to life. I wish life was that simple.

I woke up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, and got out of bed. The first thing that indicated something was amiss was when I opened my eyes and noticed that I wasn't blind without the pair of glasses that had followed me since my days as a teenager. The ever longing craving for nicotine was nonexistent. The second thing I noticed was that my surrounding were not that of my bedroom. This was a shabby little ten by ten room with a shabbier wardrobe and threadbare sheets. I hurriedly dressed, finding ill fitting and ill mended clothes in the wardrobe.

I looked around the room. There were a collection of shells on the window. A picture of the coast. It was brick, and old. Where was I?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

I turned, and a matronly old woman opened my door.

"Tom, there's a visitor here for you." That wasn't my name.

An old man entered the room, he was dressed in a suit, and had a rediculous scarf around his neck.

"Hello Tom, my name is Albus Dumbledore, it's a pleasure to meet you." He said, his eyes twinkling, and extended a hand.

Suddenly, I knew where I was at, and who I was, and boy, was I fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay. Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot. Probs played a part in creating instant wealth for Flamel. Oh hell. He can read minds. Yep. Doomeds. One obliviate away from done, or a permanent bunk in the department of mysteries.

Wait, is the super telepathy canon or fanon? I cursed myself for reading to much fanfic. Stupid Super!Harry stories. Okay. Avoid his gaze. Play the shy probably abused orphan. I can do this.

"It's nice to meet you, sir." I said, looking downward. Hopefully acting like a shy, poor orphan. Please sir, may I have some 'ore. Just channel Oliver Twist. You've got this.

"Hello Tom."

The matron, Mrs Cope? Cole. Her name was Cole. This knowledge came from where? Huh, apparently I have some of Tom's memories. Including how he was using his wandless magic. That will be useful. Anyhow. Mrs Cole, Left us alone. With the strange guy with the weird scarf. Wow, child abuse isn't a thing in ye old London apparently. Way to do your duty and leave me with the old dude.

I racked my brains to remember the conversation from Half-Blood. I hated that movie.

"Are you a doctor?" I asked. Dumbledore gave me an odd look.

"She wanted me to see a doctor. She thinks I'm mad. Things happen around me. I was busy one day, and I couldn't clean my room. When I woke up, my room had cleaned itself. It's stayed clean ever since. I can make things move by themselves. My clothes will dry themselves."

"I assure you, you're not mad. I'm a Professor. I'm from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland. Your name has been on our list since you were born." He produced an envelope.

Name on the front, suspiciously specific location. Mental note, figure how to do that ASAP. I opened the envelope. School supply list. Yata yata. Then I realized something. Harry had money. I had money in my old life, software development is lucrative, but in this life, I was an orphan, a broke one. Hmm, mental note 2. Invest in all the stocks. Assuming I lived that long, since you know, bombs and world war II. Ehh, I was safe in the books.

"Sir, is there a scholarship fund for the poor?" I asked.

"Hogwarts does have a scholarship program for the less fortunate. You'll be given a stipend to purchase your books and supplies for the year." Dumbledore said with a nod.

"Sir, when can I go?"

"Term starts September 1st. You'll be allowed to purchase your supplies in August." I nodded eagerly.

Our conversation continued. I play the orphan who finally found a home, taking care to avert my eyes from Dumbledore whenever necessary. I asked a few questions, and channeled Hermione Granger.

He answered them. He did not catch my wardrobe on fire, or tell me off for being a thief. He left after an hour or so, and I told Mrs Cole the news when she checked on me after he left.

That night, I gathered up all the of Tom Riddle's trophies and threw them in the rubbish bin. Except for the money. And the chocolate.

The next few months were boring. I went to the boring school the orphanage sent their wards to. It was ridiculously easy. Even if I wasn't a twenty-something man in a eleven-year-old's body, Tom had been at the top of his class. I hate the awful gruel I wouldn't feed to an animal that passed as food. I practiced my wandless magic skills. I figured out how to get the levitation charm down to a tee and learned how to turn that into a banishing spell. I talked to snakes. I caught mice and taught myself to use the magic to stun them. I wanted to use my fellow orphan, but that was wrong. I puttered around London trying to figure out how make the summoning charm work to get myself some pocket money. After the school year ended, the orphans really didn't have anything to do. There wasn't a lot of supervision, so I decided to go off and search out Diagon Alley. I compelled a couple of adults to give me the contents of their wallet. A few pence here, a few pounds there. I had quite a bit of cash. Then I bought a ticket to the closest underground stop to where I thought Diagon was. I walked from the tube to a guesstimation of where Diagon might be. After wandering for a while, I stumbled upon the pub.

I entered the Leaky Cauldron. It looked almost exactly like the movie. The bartender was different, and so were the clientele, but it looked like the same run downhole that was in the movies.

"Excuse me sir. I was wondering if you could let me into the Diagon." I produced the list from Hogwarts.

"My parents sent me with money. I'm wondering if you could show me how to get into the alley."

"Oh, a Muggle-born. Certainly." The barkeeper walked to the wall and tapped the sequence to enter the alley. The bricks folded into the wall and I entered the alley.

The movies don't do the alley justice. It was amazing. For a self-proclaimed Potterhead, it was like coming home. A few hundred wizards walked about the alley, going about their daily business. Owls flew through the air, delivering letters and packages. Brightly lit storefronts promised potions and charms. It took my breath away.

Okay, first things first. Find the gobbies, change some pounds into galleons. Then go to Flourish and Blotts and find a few books on theory. As soon as I had my wand, it would be game on. There were quite a few charms I had my eye on learning. Gemino. The Fidelius, unless it was something invented by Dumbledore and Lily. The undetectable extension spells. As many combat spells as I can learn. I was about to live in a war zone. I wandered into Gringotts, and waited in line as a teller took care of other wizards ahead of me. I spotted a long-haired, platinum blond man ahead of me accompanied by a mini-me. Ah, this generation's Malfoy. Wizards did their business. I got to the teller, took out half my muggle money and exchanged it for galleons. Following a hunch I asked the goblin a question.

"Is there a blood test to see if I've inherited any vaults?"

The goblin sneered at me, like I was something foul he stepped in.

"What business of our is it who inherits what vaults. That's your ministry's problem. Not ours. We store your money. We don't make your laws, wizard." He said that last part like it was a profanity.

"Okay, well thank you." I said meekly. I was getting really good at playing the downtrodden orphan.

I left the bank, and went to Flourish and Blotts. I pursued the book section meant for textbooks. Recalling, Goblet, I wandered over to the 4th year section. Instead of the Standard Book of Spells series there was half a dozen different texts for the charm class. Well shoot. I browsed through them.

Flourish and Blotts provided a floating hand basket that followed you around held your prospective purchases. This also gave you a small floating tally in galleons.

Returns and Physical Remunerations seemed to cover various charms regarding physics. It seemed to be the proper spellbook. I leafed through the text, and found the accio charmed. Hmm. I wonder how wand movements translated to hand movements in regards to wandless magic.

I added that book to my basket. I found a book on trunk construction, that didn't tell me how to how perform an extension spell.

Sighing in frustration. I put the back on a shelf. I browsed for a bit more, picking up the Beginner's Guide to Wandless Wonders and Emergency Invocation for the Wandless Wizard, and The Many Mysteries of the Mental Arts.

I purchased my books, and then I left the store. I headed back to the orphanage, and spent the next couple weeks browsing my new books. I learned how to augment wand movements into hand motions. Wandless magic was interesting. It was good for imprecise spells. Banishing and Summoning. Lumos. Incendio. Those spells had easy to utilize energies. Spells that required precision. Enchantments, higher-end wards. Those needed a wand as a channel to filter magical energy into the precise framework require for the more delicate spells. So. No going rogue. I had to go to Hogwarts. Get a wand. Hopefully not become a power-mad dark lord with daddy issues.

Summer went quickly. Learning magic. Memorizing books. Tom had a eidetic memory. Dumbledore showed up mid-August and took me to Diagon again. Our first stop was Ollivander's.

We entered the shop. It was fall of 1938, and I was about to buy a wand. I was going to freaking Hogwarts. It was dusty, and dimly lit. Boxes of Wands filled the shelves, waiting for their owners. I wondered where the Holly one was. I wonder if I was destined to wield the Yew wand that would turn so many lives to ruin.

"Ah, Albus. Twelve inches, ebony and dragon heartstring. Temperamental, but powerful. Excellent for transfiguration. I trust it's served you well after all these years?"

Dumbledore smiled jovially.

"It has Garrick, thank you for asking."

"And who might this be?" Ollivander asked. Holy shit, creepy vibes galore. I did not like this dude.

"This is Thomas Riddle, he's one of the Muggle-borns, here to purchase a wand."

He looked at me. Waved his own wand once, and a flurry of tape measures and measuring devices.

"Tell me Mr. Riddle, what's your wand hand, the hand you write with?"

"I'm left-handed."

"Very well, if you would extend that arm please." Tape measures measured my waist size, my height. The length of both arms. It was like being smothered by tape measures. A nonverbal spell brought a wand out of its box. I grabbed the wand, gave it a flick, and a the glass showcase exploded. He repaired the showcase and returned the wand with a flick. We did this four more times.

"Hmm. Interesting. Albus, do you recall those feathers your familiar donated?"

"Yes, of course."

"I was going to owl you later, but I sold the holly wand yesterday."

Wait, what?

He summoned a box from the shelf and a white wand floated out of it.

"Try this one Mr. Riddle."

I took the wand from where it was hanging in the air. As I grasped it, what felt like a wave of right coursed through me. You know the feeling where you've been away from home from a long time, and you haven't seen your family in ages, and everyone is together. There's laughter, and talking. A million people catching up all at once, and the almost has an energy to it? The feeling that you could stay in this moment for a million years and you could never tire of it? When my hand curled around the yew wand, and the iridescent cascade of blue and white sparks flew? That was the feeling that coursed through my body. I knew in that moment, I was where I was supposed to be. That I had been given a mission. To erase the wrongs Tom Riddle would commit, and help those he would have killed.

"Interesting. Thirteen and half inches, yew. Phoenix feather core. You'll do great things Mr. Riddle, great and amazing things." Ollivander said. He had a knowing looking in his eye, and I almost wondered if he knew more about what was going on then he let on.

We grabbed my books, robes, and various school supplies and a second hand extended trunk with weight reduction spells. Dumbledore apparated me back to the Orphanage after a stop at Fortescue's.

September First, Mrs Cole drove me to King's Cross Station. I entered 9 and Three Quarters, loaded my stuff into the luggage department and settled into a compartment for a long ride to Hogwarts and my future.


	3. Chapter 3

The train ride was uneventful. I didn't make a lifelong friend, tell off a blond git, or really much of anything. A sandy haired boy joined me after awhile, and we sat in silence.

I was busy reading through the first year curriculum. Defense against the Dark Arts was interesting. I had no frame of reference for how an actual first year's defense class should go, as the books didn't really put a lot of focus on the material. Apparently, this year we would be covering household magical creatures and ways to defend and prevent them, along with basic spells and their counters.

According to the introduction of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection, our Hogwart's years would be divided up into two parts. For the first half of our career, up until fourth year, we would learn about magical creatures, how to defend against them and also basic spells like Protego, Expelliarmus and Stupefy. In the second half of our schooling, after our OWL year we would delve into advanced combat and different types of dueling, along with more powerful creatures such as Inferi. It made some sense.

Lockhart and Lupin both taught their own variation on creatures. Moody was a Death Eater. Dumbledore knew a war was coming on and that gave a valid reason for them to learn about spells like the Unforgivables.

Charms was simple. Wand movements, proper enunciation and power output, and the spell would work.

Transfiguration was going to be the hard class. It was simply say a word, wave your wand, and turn your matchstick into a needle. No, you need to have a complete visualization of what you wanted to do. You needed to learn the molecular differences between wood and steel and include those in your transformation. It was physics and chemistry concepts rolled into one.

Potions was an odd mix between cooking and chemistry. If you wanted to make your own potions you had to know what reacted with what, in what quantities and the boiling point of certain objects. You had to be careful not to feed to much magic into the potion or else it wouldn't work. You also had to know what metals for cauldrons and stirring rods interacted with the mix. The lessons in the book were simple. If you followed the instructions then you would could almost guarantee the potions would come out. For the more advanced potions, it was akin to showing an extremely amateur cook who had trouble not burning water how to make a perfect Consommé.

We arrived at Hogsmeade Station, I had changed out of my orphan wear and into a set of black robes. We got out.

"First years! First years over here!" A older teenager in gold and black robes called out. So, that's who Hagrid would have replaced.

"No more to four to a boat, come on children." The boy said. Who the fuck was he calling a child? I was a grown ass- oh. Wait. Okay. We put our luggage on a pile.

Muttering under my breath I found a boat. I lost track of my compartment companion. We crossed the Black Lake. Holy Shit. Yet another thing that the movie doesn't do justice. The castle was aglow, every window was lit. The lake reflected it and the castle was like a ghostly after-image on the still surface. It was breathtaking. We entered the boathouse, followed a catacomb under the grounds and we emerged into the doors before the great hall. Dumbledore was waiting for us. I looked around at my classmates. Blond poncy looking git, this generation's Malfoy. Two boys who looked like miniature mountain trolls flanking him. Somethings never change. A prim looking girl. Another girl in a no nonsense bun who had glasses.

"The start of term feast will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."*

We trooped into the castle, single file. Listened to the Sorting Hat's song, and a stool was conjured. An Abbot went to Hufflepuff. A Bones followed them. Orion Black became a Slytherin. The girl with the her hair in a bun was McGonagall, and she went to Gryffindor. Of course. I should have seen that.

Then Dumbledore called out another name.

"Peter Pevensie!" Oh. oh no, well. Shit just got really interesting. Didn't it?

The sandy haired boy from my compartment sat down on the stool, the Hat sat on his head for maybe half a second before calling out Gryffindor. As if a Pevensie would go to any other house.

"Tom Riddle!" Dumbledore called out. I took a seat on the stool, and the hat was placed on my head.

"My, my, a time traveler. I haven't sorted one of these and years. Every since that insane girl with the watch. What a nut. Hmm. A universe traveler as well. Apparently I'm in a work of fiction. This is certainly news to me. So, let's see what house to sort you into. Hmm, brains to spare. You've got a sneaky streak in you. You're hardworking, but not very loyal."

"I'm loyal to my cat!" I thought back.

"To humans, you manchild."

"Shush. Just put me in Gryffindor."

"Bravery is not your strongest quality. You are at least daring. You've got nerve." Moving cross-country for a job would count as daring, I guess.

"I've also got a plot coupon practically smacking me in the face. Gryffindor, you self aware headpiece."

"I could melt your brain."

"And I could catch you on fire."

"Looks like its Gryffindor!" The hat said.

"Now fuck off. Time travelers. Crazy. The lot of them." The hat muttered before being removed from my head. My robes turned to ones that were Gryffindor themed, and I took a spot next to Peter and a Pettigrew.

Augusta Rosier, the prim looking girl, went to Gryffindor. I wondered if that was Neville's grandma. The sorting hat finished it's bit. We had the feast. After months of gruel and junk food, the feast was delicious. There were like six different kinds of meat. Roast vegetables. Soup. Everything and anything a british kid could want. After the feast we were escorted upstairs to our common room and our dorms. I changed out of my robes into my under things, crawled into my new bed, and went to sleep.

*Taken from The Sorcerer's Stone. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.


	4. Chapter 4

I sat at the Gryffindor table. The Great Hall was mostly empty this early. The ceiling of the Great Hall was basically a real time display of the weather outside of the castle. The stars outside had yet to be replaced by a sunrise, although it was tinged with the orange that meant it was close to dawn. I had been an early riser by habit, and being punted across space and time hadn't changed that. I needed to work out a plan. When I first arrived in this universe, I thought it was generic harry potter. My plan was to study my ass off, get great OWLS and NEWTS, and then vanish into the muggle world, using magic to live a life of luxury, and maybe become a silicon valley billionaire, because why not?

With the revelation of last night's sorting, some of those plans changed. I was going to make friends with Peter Pevensie, and hopefully get taken along to Narnia. Hopefully, if Aslan was a god, He could send me home. Or maybe He was the one that dropped me here in the first place. I had to get to Narnia. That much was sure. I'd also bet my last galleon that Peter was the one who got the holly wand.

The Pevensies didn't go to Kirke's house until 1940ish, it was during the Blitz, I knew that much. That gave me a year or two to figure that out. I also knew that I needed to stockpile stuff for the trip. One of those cool wizarding tents, and consumables. The magical equivalent to Hand Warmers. A bucket of water for the wicked witch of the north. A broom or five. This meant that my plan for a portable hole went to the top of the list, as did my plan to raid the library and the room of requirement. I needed to learn that extension spell yesterday, along with those neat little shield spells that created a dome around Hogwarts in Hallows. I wondered if I could fit the Basilisk into an undetectable extensioned backpack or suitcase, or wallet. Newt did, or will do it, my memory was fuzzy on Fantastic Beasts. I'm almost positive that movie took place in the 20s, so that was already done, and Professor Dumbledore was currently the Transfiguration Teacher, Professor Merrythought was the current Defense instructor.

Reflecting back on the the Narnian book series, it had been years since I last read it, I also knew that the Pevensies died at some point in the Last Battle, due to a train wreck. I'm wondered if I could save them. I had a few years before that happened though, so I pushed it to the back of my mind. I sipped my coffee, surprisingly the elves brewed a great cup of joe.

There were other things I had to worry about as well. My orphanage, for all intents and purposes, my home, was going to be in the middle of one of the worst air raids in human history. The whole world was going to be plunged into the middle of a war. Ugh. Some many things to do, and I was already under a deadline. Speaking of deadlines, I need a time turner. Yesterday.

With those million thoughts running through my head, I looked at my schedule. Today was a saturday, so I wouldn't have classes until the fourth. It was the normal first year classes, I noted idly I would have fridays free. Then it hit me. Holy shit. It happened yesterday. World War II started freaking yesterday. I was floored by that brief realization. I knew that tomorrow Britain and France would declare war on Nazi germany. I shook off that terrifying realization. Okay. I had the weekend free. First things first. The library!

I wandered the halls for about an hour, after getting lost, and having that stupid staircase somehow take me downstairs even though I was blatantly going up, a friendly ghost pointed the way there. I added making my own version of the Marauder's map to my quickly growing list.

I arrived in the library. Of course, due to the early hour, it was open, but empty.

A librarian was sitting at the desk. She was a stern looking young woman in her early twenties. Holy shit, Madam Pince was a looker.

I gave her a smile, and a wave.

"Good Morning, I was wondering if there was a card catalog."

She looked up, an inquisitive look in her eye.

"You're a muggleborn I take it?"

"Yes ma'am." I said.

She pointed to a wood paneled file cabinet off to the side of the desk.

"Tap your wand to that, speak or think the book you're looking for, and if you bring the card to me I can check the book out for you. Or you can get it yourself. Just be mindful and careful with my books."

I went over to the cabinet, and tapped it, and thought about the undetectable extension spell. A card floated out of the cabinet, gave me a location in the charms section and off I went.

Fifteen minutes later I had proper wand movements for the extension spell sketched out on a piece of parchment. Quills are a pain in the ass to use, by the way. Now I needed a bag to practice with. Next stop, room of requirement!

I carefully placed the book back where I found it, left the Library, and took off for the seventh floor corridor. After finding the room I walked back and forth three times, all the while thinking,

"I need a place and materials to learn the extension spell."

A door opened, there was a study table with a few books on spatial expansion spells in general, and a pile of various bags, trunks, and purses.

The first three I tried, I kind of overpowered it. One of the purses had a feather lining for some ungodly reason. I learned the vanishing spell before I learned the expansion spell. On my fifth try, the leather backpack I was waving my wand over glowed blue. I experiment by stuffing my arm into the bag. Then my head. I'm glad the bag was on its side, because I kind of crawled into it.

Look, this wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I needed to know how well this thing worked. It's all perfectly scientific.

Hmm, next step. I crawled out of my backpack, and thought about a book for shrinking and unshrinking spells. Because my next logical step is to carry everything. All the time. Always.

But first. I quickly told the room that I wanted a pile of galleons the size of me. A swish and a flick, and the pile of galleons was in my physics defying backpack. Which now weighed as much as I did. Fuckkk mee.

I asked the book for a how to on feather-light charms. It provided. I think I might be in love with a room. I shrunk my new found dragon's horde and put it in my pocket. Thoroughly exhausted from my early morning magic usage, I went back to gryffindor tower and fell asleep until noon.

When I woke up, I was starving, and lunch was being served in the Great Hall. My dorm was empty. I backtracked my steps to the Great Hall. The gryffindor table, and the great hall, was about a quarter of the way full. It seemed as though the older students were out and about, as it didn't look like there was hardly anyone about third or fourth year sitting around.

I noticed Peter sitting by himself, a piece of parchment and an ink bottle out. A quill was in his hand. I decided to sit across from him. I sat down, grabbed a sandwich and my transfiguration text and began to study.

After a few minutes, I had noticed he was finished with his letter and had taken out his own textbook, and had began to study.

"You're Peter, right?" I asked. He looked up from his text.

"Yes. Tom, right?" He said, and I nodded.

"Who were you writing?"

"My brother and sisters." I nodded, and went back to studying.

"Do you have any siblings?" He asks. A universe ago I would have answered yes, and pulled out my phone to show pictures of my nieces and nephews. But Tom Riddle doesn't have siblings, doesn't even have a mother or a father.

"I'm an orphan." I say, and sip my cooling cup of tea.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He replies, unsure what to do with this information.

"It's fine. I've always been." He nods, and goes back to his book.

"Say, have you ever played chess?" I ask, searching a change of subject. He nods.

"Well, I hear wizards have a type of chess where the pieces move themselves, and they talk to you. I'm sure the common room might have one. Wanna go back there and try to find a set?" I had seen a shelf in there last night filled with various wizarding games and books.

"Sure."

We finished eating, and put our books back in our respective bags. Then we made to leave the great hall. As we were exiting, we nearly ran into two other boys. One of them had black hair and grey-blue eyes, Orion Black. He looked like a smaller version of Sirius Black, minus the tattoos and insanity. The other. The other was a Malfoy.

"Watch where you're going mudblood." Orion said.

"What did you call me?" Peter asked.

"Mudblood." The Malfoy said, as if talking to someone particularly slow.

"A dirty muggle that thinks that it's risen above it's station because it has a wand." In that moment, I see a flash of the warrior my friend will become, and it was, frankly terrifying. This would one day be the man that would face giants with his brother. Would fight a wolf to save his sister. Would ride a unicorn into battle with a sword in his hand, and a prayer to the Lion on his lips. I felt a thrill go down my spine, and something else, and promptly ended that train of thought.

"Peter, ignore him." I said, grabbing my new friend gently by the shoulder.

Malfoy gave me a look, taking in my second hand robes, and tattered knapsack.

"Come on, Black. Leave the mudbloods alone, that one already looks like it's been in a scrape. Wouldn't want our images tarnished by getting into a fight with this lot." You're eleven. Why are you talking like that. Stop talking like that.

"God forbid you'd lose to a mudblood," I said, and immediately regretted my words.

Malfoy drew his wand.

"I'd say you learn who your betters are, Riddle." He sneered.

"You can learn the same lesson, ponce." I gave my best imitation of the haughty arrogance that Malfoy seemed to exude, my own wand in my hand. I may not know many spells, but I'm pretty sure my stupefy would lay him out.

"You dare, filth?"

"I do." I fucking hated bigots, and used a little trick Tom had picked up in the orphanage. My eyes took on a slight glow, not really apparent, just a shimmer that gave them a slightly malicious look about them. Excellent for intimidation, especially little shits who think they're better than everyone because of the silver spoons that had been removed from their mouths as a baby and permanently lodged in their ass since.

"Malfoy, let's take our leave." Black said, tugging on his friend's arm.

They shoot us dirty looks and enter the Great Hall. We return to our common room without incident. The rest of the weekend passes uneventfully.

Monday morning, after breakfast, we're sent off to the potions classroom. We shared the class with the Slytherins. Apparently, this had been done this way for years. Despite it being in the dungeon, it wasn't the gloomy scene in the books. The classroom was lit by some sort of light charm in the ceiling. Peter and I took a seat at one of the work tables.

Slughorn is an interesting teacher. He gave a small lecture on the importance of the boil cure potion, made the instructions appear on the blackboard, and then proceeded to try and socialize with my classmates.

I had already read Jigger's book cover to cover, along with Advanced Potion Making. Tom had an eidetic memory, and I put it to use. Peter and I had the second best potion in the class. Next to Malfoy and Black. The class was interesting, but I really didn't get the appeal. Like, brew fame, bottle glory, and all that, but know of that was ever shown. I wanted to like Potions. I loved cooking. But this, mindlessly grinding porcupine quills. Dissecting slugs. No thanks. We decant our boil cure, cleaned up our area, and moved to the next class.

Our next class was Herbology. Professor Beery was the current head of Ravenclaw, and an amazing teacher. Our first class covered the syllabus for the year, and what we would cover through all seven years if we chose to continue the class after our OWL Year.

Herbology was kind of badass. There were all sorts of plans that were quite terrifying.

Even the first year plants, like devil's snare, would be deadly given the right setting. I aimed then and there to learn everything I could about this field.

Herbology flew by, and soon it was time for lunch.

Peter and I discussed our classes over a lunch of soup and sandwiches. We had made a new friend in Herbology, Reginald Longbottom. He had been sorted into Gryffindor, and was extremely outgoing.

"Yeah, I've been on the books for Hogwarts for Ages, my family's one of the 28, y'know?" We didn't know Reg.

"My brother, Algie is going to be here next year. He's a bit of a git. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a claw or a snake."

"Doesn't your family sort into one house?" I asked.

"Oh no. We're not the Weasley's or the Malfoy's. We've got family in all the houses, my older sister was in Hufflepuff. She's graduated now. Went to an upscale Uni in the States."

"We have Universities?" I asked. That was news to me.

"Of course we do!" He said.

"She went to one in New York. That school's bloody weird. Some sort of time magic makes the seasons all funny. She's learning all about wandless magic. Then there's that scary one in Maine, those blokes are crazy. Of course, there's also Oxford and Cambridge here." He turned to Peter.

"What about you Pete, where is your family from?"

"Finchley. My mum doesn't work, but my dad's in the service." He said after finishing a bite of his sandwich.

"Oh, my uncle's in the army. Right worried about Grindelwald he is."

"Who?" Peter asked.

"Oh, this scary dark lord that's been running around the continent. We don't have to worry about him. Not with the likes of Dumbledore and Minister Moon here. Grindelwalds too scared."

I wished he was right. Lunch went by, and we talked about quidditch. I'm not sure I wanted to play that game. But until I figured out how to duplicate that flight spell, or learned to apparate, I wanted a way to fly. Our first lesson wouldn't be until Thursday.

We had a brief break after lunch, and I was quickly wrote a rough draft of my essay on the properties of porcupine quills.

After our break, we had Charms class with Ravenclaw. We would finally start learning magic!

We entered the class room. Flitwick was seated on top of his desk, and the room separated into two different sections, half of the room in Ravenclaw blue, the other half Gryffindor red.

"Welcome to Charms. In the next seven years you will learn how to become invisible, light your way in the dark. A master of charms will never be without a way to light a fire. Can conjure water without a thought. This is the most diverse field of magic in existence. Charms is the cornerstone for Defense Against the Dark Arts, the stasis and shield spells for particular potions, and the reversal for nasty Transfigurations. Now, can anyone tell me a charm used in another field of magic?"

A ravenclaw raised her hand.

"The protego charm."

"Good job Miss Selwyn! Five points of Ravenclaw." Not to be out done, I raised my own hand.

"Mr. Riddle?"

"The Patronus Charm, for Dementors."

"Excellent, five points to Ravenclaw. Now, for our first class, we'll be learning the easiest charm, but one of the most useful, the wandlighting charm, and it's counterspell, the wand extinguishing charm."

He demonstrated the incantation, an upside down V, with his wand, and Nox, a regular V swiped in the air backward.

I had already learned this through my own studying of the books.

"Lumos!" I said, the tip of my wand glowed bright, and I quickly countered the spell, I gained another ten points for my house.

Soon, the whole class was able to light their wands and extinguish them. This took nearly the whole period.

"Good job everyone. For homework I want twelve inches on The Lumos charm, and it's relation to the Kenaz rune. You'll find the information you need in one of your charms texts. I expect this essay by Wednesday. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. Off you tot!"

Our next class was Transfiguration, which, despite Dumbledore being the teacher, was dry. We had a lot of theory to cover before learning our first spells in that class.

Transfiguration was our last class of the day and we went to Dinner. After playing a small round robin of chess with Reg and Peter, I lost both games, I edited my rough draft of my Potion's essay, placed that in my Potion's text, and then got to work on my Charm's homework.

The next morning Flitwick was waiting for us in Charms and he set us to work writing or finishing the essay.

I raised my hand.

"Yes Mr. Riddle?"

"Professor, I was just wondering, why couldn't we use a rune instead of a spell?"

"Excellent question Mr. Riddle, and you'll cover this in runes if you choose that class in your third year, but Runes are in predictable. Wizardkind has learned that just using a rune can have some unpredictable effects due to their variable meanings. I can provide you more research if you'd like to learn more?"

I nodded.

"See me after class." He said. At the hour mark, I finished my essay and handed it in. Surprised that I'd turned in my essay, he looked over it.

"You've only worked on this for half the class, how are you done already?" He asked.

"Oh, I completed the essay last night. I just had to correct the spelling and fix the sentence structure.

"A Gryffindor with a Ravenclaw's study ethic." He said with a laugh.

"Maybe the Hat sorted you wrong," He said with a laugh and I let out a nervous chuckle. He gave me a small primer on the differences between rune magic and wand magic.

"Normally that's a book you don't receive until the third year, but you'll put it to good use, I think. Let me know if you have any questions about the material."

I went back to my desk and began devouring the thin book. It was only a hundred some odd pages, but it was extremely interesting. The class was dismissed and we went to our first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Professor Merrythought was a severe looking, stern woman who booked no disobedience or nonsense. She knew her shit, and she quickly started in on a rapid fire lecture about Doxies.

Our next two classes were Herbology, and Astronomy. Dinner followed.

Wednesday had us at the Charms Class where we focused on Lumos Solem, a variation on the wandlighter. After, we had History of Magic. I vowed to figure out how to exorcise a spirit. Binns was the most boring teacher I had ever suffered through. That class quickly turned into a period of self study.

Thursday was our first flying lesson. It went okay. Okay, so I kind of smacked myself in the head with the broom, twice. And fell. But, I was learning how to fly a broom, so that was good.

Friday was free except for our Astronomy practical, and I spent the weekend exploring the castle with Peter and Reginald, and using the Room of Requirement for my own personal library and practice room.

We settled into a routine, and soon the Christmas Holidays were upon us.


	5. Chapter 5

Teacher's Lounge, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

December 1939.

As always, before they sent the students home for the Winter, and Yule, or Christmas depending on if they were a muggleborn, a pureblood, or of mixed lineage, the teachers sat down and discussed their various students. Talent scouting started early at Hogwarts. It was one of the most premiere schools of grade level magic in the world. Places like Miskatonic, Brakebills, and Magical Oxford would begin courting students that would matriculate Hogwarts in the spring of the Student's Fifth Year. Even now, with the War going on, they would still begin their recruitment efforts. These, along with the Ministry of the Magic, of course.

The most talked about student however, wasn't a fifth year. It was Tom Riddle. The young student was top of his year, and Filius had begun instructing him in Runes on the sly, much to the ire of Bathsheda Babbling, their resident Rune Master. There was talk about moving him up a year.

There were detractors of course. Among them was Horace Slughorn.

"While his grades are excellent, his practicum is lacking. That, and he's made no shortage of enemies among his year group." Albus rolled his eyes internally. Horace, was of course, speaking of the rivalry that had quickly developed between Riddle and the Misters Black and Malfoy. Horace had created a little club when he had joined the school staff a few years ago. He was quickly becoming the most well connected teacher at Hogwarts. There were rumors that he'd try for headmaster in a few years, once Armando had retired. Aside from those two, and the little clique the two scions were forming in Slytherin, Tom was friendly with almost everyone at the school.

"It's a schoolyard rivalry, nothing more," Filius said.

"Hexes have been exchanged! In the classroom, mind you. Not to mention that incident with the cauldron. I had to assign detention for him and that muggleborn he hangs around with." Horace barked back. He was of course, referring to Peter Pevensie. Tom and Peter had quickly hit it off, they and Rigel Longbottom were thick as thieves. Along with a brilliant young witch named Minerva that Albus had earmarked as excellent in Transfiguration. The girl was a natural.

"There's never been any sort of tomfoolery in my classroom," Galena replied. Albus bit back a snort at the pun.

"Of course not Galena, they'd be afraid you'd hex them into oblivion."

"My job, if I need to remind you, Horace, is to teach them avoid being just that." She bit back.

"What may I ask, caused the altercation?" Albus asked. He noticed that Armando had yet to intervene, studiously ignoring the almost shouting match in favor of reading his issue of the Prophet. Albus was the Assistant Headmaster, but Armando should have stopped his staff from arguing.

"Just a bit of naming calling, nothing serious really."

"A bit of name calling?" Galena said. She was the Head of Gryffindor House.

"Mr. Malfoy called Riddle and Pevensie dirt eating mudbloods. Mr. Riddle retaliated by shouting back. After asperaging Mr. Riddle's parents, or lack thereof, Mr. Riddle used a tickling hex on Mr. Malfoy. Albus, given the material Mr. Riddle has read since he returned, he is capable of much more severe harm."

This caused Albus some degree of worry. When he had first met Tom at Wool's the matron of the orphanage had told him that Tom was a menace to the other residents. Upon meeting him, and lightly probing the boy with legilimency, he had picked up notes of confusion, and fear. But not any sort of malice. He had written the claims off as the accidental magic of a scared young boy.

"What sort of material?" He asked.

"As you know, Irma forwards me the records of any of my students checking books out of the library, just in case they check out something beyond their grade level, or a tome of spells that could cause themselves harm. You know the restricted section has most of the powerful books, but there are quite a few times that are available for consumption that go hand in hand with our curriculum as necessary augments to the text. Mr. Riddle has checked out almost every book at the second and third, and fourth level in the core subjects, and has read them."

"Ah yes, and fourth is when we begin teaching dueling and the more dangerous hexes we teach as part of your course." Worries assuaged, Albus motioned for her to continue.

"Well, after Mr. Riddle hit Mr. Malfoy with a spell, which was stopped by a protego from Mr. Black, Mr. Pevensie decided to join the fracas. He punched Mr. Black in the nose."

"No one was in the right during that, I'll agree." Albus said, and Horace nodded triumphantly.

"However, Horace, Mr. Malfoy should have served a detention for the name calling. That sort of behavior and those slurs should not be tolerated here. You know this."

"It's just a few words, Albus."

"Imperio is just a word. The Killing curse is four syllables. We are at war because words sparked actions that are reprehensible. Hogwarts is a place of learning, not bigotry. You'll learn to correct your students or you'll be corrected by me. Are we understood?"

"Albus, The Malfoys and Blacks are extremely well connected, and I would hate to get on the wrong side of them. Let boys be boys."

"Horace, you're extremely well employed, and you would hate to get on the wrong side of me. Control your students."

The Potion's Master looked cowed. The rest of the meeting continued uneventfully.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up with a start. I'd been dreaming. I had to be. I went to the Chamber and found out that Salazar fucking Slytherin was animagus. Then I looked around the room I was in. It was made of stone. There were shelves along one wall that held books. Another held vials upon vials of white glowing material that I was almost positive were Pensieve memories. A desk with a quill and parchment were in another corner. The room was warm. It felt like summer. Where the bloody hell was I? Oh god, that's the most British thing I've ever thought. I must be going native.

"Ah good, you're awake." A man's voice said and walked into the room.

Nope. Not a dream.

"You're Salazar Slytherin!" I practically yelled.

"You have quite the penchant for pointing out the obvious." He said.

"But you! Snake! Basilisk!"

"Me! Wizard! Animagus!" He said,

"Is that how everyone talks these days?" He muttered.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose.

"How long was I out?"

"Perhaps an hour, maybe more. Maybe less."

I reached for my wand and invoked the tempus spell. Okay, it was only 2. I had a stock of pepper-up potion in my room. I wouldn't be a complete zombie tomorrow.

"How are you the basilisk? Every legend I've read about it says that it was your creature that you left behind to kill muggle-born." I needed logical answers, or else I was going to go insane.

"That's preposterous. I only wanted to keep the muggleborn out of Hogwarts to save us, and them. The witch trials killed so many of our kind, that we needed better protections."

"That makes sense, but what doesn't make sense, is why are you a basilisk?"

"Is animagery no longer taught?"

"It is, but only for the advanced classes. Everything I've read about that branch of magic suggests that it isn't possible to become a mythological creature. The power expenditure basically guarantees becoming an instant niffin." Well, it didn't, but I could read between the lines of being wary of wandless spell usage in a universe where Brakebills existed.

"Not for a normal wanded mage no. Tell me young wizard, what have they told you about us four?"

"Four teachers, four houses. The Hufflepuffs, the Hard Workers. The Gryffindors, the courageous. The Ravenclaws, the wise. The Slytherin, the cunning."

"That's true to an extent. We did create this school, and we worked together for a time. But that is where I'm afraid the history starts to bleed into myth. Helena and Godric. Helga and I. We were married to the other. Each of our houses, they have their own creatures. You know of Hufflepuffs?"

"A badger?"

"Yes, a badger. Hardworking. Industrious, and utterly capable of savagery unlike anything else when angered or pushed into a corner. I'm afraid I angered a badger. You see, I loved Helga dearly, but I had a dalliance if you will. I was unfaithful to her. In return, she cursed me with an incorporate bond."

"What?"

"Do you not know what an incorporate bond is?"

"I'm aware of what one of those is. It's an unbreakable spell meant as a type of prison sentence. They're impossible to break." As soon as I had heard a couple of fifth years talking about Brakebills, and realized it was part of the universe I'd been thrown into, I'd wracked my brains for everything I knew about the books and movies.

"No matter. She cursed me with the incorporate bond, and immediately regretted it."

"What were the conditions of the bond? What was the bond's area?"

"Her exact wording was to never allow me to walk off the school grounds again. She cursed me, and I accepted it. I'd been in the wrong. The four of us created a spell, a variant on the animagus ritual. In case our arithmancy was off, or we couldn't beat the conditions of the spell, we chose a creature that exemplified my nature and abilities and could be used as a protection for the school. The ritual was a success, mostly. The curse said I could never walk off the school grounds. It never said I couldn't slither. It had the side effect of making me immortal. The next decade or two wasn't kind to us. There was that debacle with Helena and my son from my first marriage. Rowena killed herself in grief. Then my Helga died. Godrick and I were soon the last two of the founders. Our proteges took over the school. Godrick vanished, and I was the last. My heirs visited me at first. But they had children and grew old, and I became lonely. It's only recently that I've returned to Hogwarts. I've spent years roaming the world until recently. There are these nasty muggle metal things that attacked me underwater around the Nord sea. I crushed them and escaped. I came back here a few months ago, and decided to hibernate for a bit before going back to my journals."

"How do you eat enough to support your metabolism? How do you get to the ocean?"

"The oceans are deep and the fish are plentiful. Black Lake has a channel that leads to the ocean."

"Wait? Journals?"

"Yes, I keep journals. For the first century, it was parchment. I've since moved to Pensieve memories that are labeled along with an index. It keeps the memories from driving me insane. I have a house elf bring me the vials."

"The house elves know about you?"

"Of course they do. The elves are primarily loyal to Hogwarts, for all intents and purposes, I'm the owner of this school. They keep the secrets of their master. So, tell me, child, when are you from?"

"I'm from London."

"Not where, when."

"What?"

"You look eleven or twelve. You didn't even question my use of the term dalliance. Which suggests a higher level of knowledge about intimacy or entendre then most children could fathom. You talk about incorporate bonds knowingly. You speak like an adult. You have the demeanor of one. You're obviously a time traveler. It wouldn't be the first time I had to put up with temporal meddling. There was that dreadful girl with the stopwatch in the early fifteenth century that wouldn't shut up. I almost killed her more than once. Then there was that blond girl, the idiot niffin. I almost shoved her in a box. That was a fun week."

Well, shoot.

"I'm from the early twenty-first century."

"Oh, and what caused you to come back to, what year is it?"

"1940."

"1940."

I couldn't tell him I was from a separate universe.

"A magical accident."

"Hmm." He shrugged

noncommittedly, and performed his own version of the Tempus spell.

"Well, it is getting late. I'll let you return to your room. Have a nice night Tom. I'm going to retire."

"I will. This conversation has been enlightening." I said and offered my hand out. He shook it and I turned to leave.

"Oh, and Tom?"

I turned back.

Salazar smirked at me.

"Perhaps next time you'll tell me why the chamber's wards inform me you absolutely wreak of being touched by a god."


	7. Chapter 7

It had been two weeks since I all but fled from the chamber. Saturday I had slept in. Sunday I had used the room as a target range for practicing dueling. I had most of the spells taught at hogwarts learned in that department. I knew confringo, both bombarda variants, and reducto, along with half a dozen other spells meant to injure my opponents. There were a few things on my list. I wanted to figure out my way around a bow, and a sword. There were other ideas that were running around my head. Firearms were simply really. If I could minitureize a reducto, that would produce the force needed for the projectile to exit the barrel. Some sort of conjuring spell for the bullets. A way to trigger the spells, possibly with a word or an actual physical button. Wizards had a gun beat, no doubt about that. Just learning about the maximum explosive strength of the reducto made me aware of that. The week was filled with classes and getting back in the swing of being in a classroom for most of my waking hours.

I was Running into trouble on the typewriter front. Quills were simple, and didn't have many moving parts. Moving parts were the tricky bit. It would type just fine, and listen to my commands. Getting the return key and the carriage to cooperate were proving to be the difficult parts. I could command the spell to just hit the return key, but I wanted that automated. After I was done with getting the typewriter to actual work, I was going to start learning how to use the protean charms to connect two of them. Once I cracked that, it was going to get tricky. I planned on totally redoing the typewriter's chassis and making it look magical. Then I was going to get a patent for a magical device. I'd need a middleman for that, or get around to learning glamours.

Classes were going smoothly, and I guess we were in lead for the Quidditch cup. I didn't pay attention to sports. Peter and Minerva were mildly fanatical about it. Reg had brought a book to one of the games and she hadn't spoken to him for a week. Right now it was two saturdays after I had gone into the chamber. Peter and Minerva were off at the library. Reg was out on the castle grounds, something about a guided tour of the upper year greenhouses.

I was looking over my journals. I had already filled a few notebooks with my ideas. I sighed. Magical research and development was going nowheres fast. With a growl, I waved my hand, Packed my bookbag and left the room. I looked both ways before activating a disillusionment charm and left for the girl's bathroom. After making sure no one was there of course. Myrtle Warren, an utter bitch of a Ravenclaw, had a habit of moping in this bathroom. She had noticed me hanging around a few times and had taken to bugging me. Why couldn't she just sulk in the library like the rest of the emo Ravenclaws?

I entered the Chamber, went past the shrine to narcissism, and tapped twice on a stone in the back. A door slid opened. Salazar was next to his desk reading a copy of Transfiguration Monthly. He had his feet propped up on a footstool. He was wearing a terry cloth bathrobe, and were those bunny slippers? I shook my head. He glanced up at me.

"Ah, hello Tom."

"Hi Professor Slytherin."

He snorted.

"We're related. Call me Salazar, or Sal, whatever you prefer. What brings you down here?"

I sighed.

"I need help. I've run into an enchanting issue with something. I was hoping you could advise me."

"Certainly. But, there's a catch."

"What?"

"I just want some more more information on the information the wards were telling me."

I nodded.

"Fine, but I want an unbreakable Vow that I tell you will won't be told to anyone."

"Very well, but I want you to make me one in return that you won't tell anyone about my continued existence. I look around his study, and bit my bottom lip. To tell him about a fidelius, yes or no.

"Fine."

"Clyde!" He yelled, there was a small pop and a hogwarts house elf winked into existence.

"Professor Slytherin calls?" The elf asked.

"Yes, I need you to act as a binder for a Vow." The elf nodded without hesitation. Salazar clasped my left hand tightly with his right, and the elf placed his own hand on top of ours.

"Do you, Salazar Slytherin swear to never tell anyone about the conversation or it's contents, in any form or way without permission. Do you swear to uphold this vow in it's spirit, and not it's letter, upon pain of death and loss of magic?"

"I so do swear." A thin rope of fiery chain wrapped around our wrists and hands.

"Do you, Tom Riddle swear to never disclose that I am alive, that Slytherin's monster and Slytherin are one and the same without permission? Do you swear to uphold this vow in it's spirit, and not it's letter, upon death and loss of magic.

"I so do swear." Another rope joined the first.

"Word as bond." He said.

"Word as bond." I repeated. A third rope joined the first two, the magic of the spell flared, the ropes burned for a moment, and then they were gone.

"Now, tell me everything."

I did, I told him about going to sleep in my little apartment, wishing my cat good night, and crawling into bed. Then waking up the next morning in the 1940s, thrown across time and space to land in an beaten down orphanage in London. I told him about coming from a universe where Hogwarts, and Brakebills were just stories. I told him about four siblings, a lion, a witch and wardrobe. A stone table, and the old magic. A lonely orphan who had all his dreams come true and ran headlong into a war. How he gave his life to save a family he found, and was brought back to life. A depressed highschooler, obsessed with books about yet another magical land, and how he grew up, lost his first love to another damaged child, became a god, and saved magic.

It was cathartic. I had been holding in so much. I hadn't had or made time to mourn. I mourned then, cried my heart out for the life, for the friends and family I'd likely never see again. After sometime, I stopped crying. Salazar wordlessly held out a handkerchief, and I took it. Blowing my nose and wiping off my ugly snot nosed and tear soaked face.

"So, why do you think you've been sent here?" Salazar asked.

"Tom Riddle grew into a villain, a heartless coward who killed families and brought a world to its knees. I had assumed that I had been sent here to stop that. Ensure he became a force for good instead of the power mad despot he had become. Then I met Peter, and found out about Brakebills, and realized that the world I'm in is much bigger than I had initially thought."

"Well, for starters. I want you to list everything you know about the worlds you described to me. I'm not well versed on current affairs, but I've kept up with things regarding magical research."

"What about fanfiction?" I asked.

"What, pray tell, is fanfiction?"

"It's where someone writes stories set in a certain universe even though they aren't the author."

"And the writers of these stories are okay with this plagiarization?"

"It's not quite plagiarism. The authors are fine with it as long as the fanfiction writer isn't making a profit off of it."

"Make a list of the questions and possible facts from these as well." I nodded. Pulled out an empty notebook, and my pens and began a list.

"The Deathly Hallows?"

"Not given to the Peverells by Death. They created them. They were each master artificers."

"Family magics?"  
"Certain families do practice and specialize in certain branches of magic. I'm sure they're written down their secrets to pass along to their heirs."

"Are there any lost fortunes, did any of the founder's have secret vaults, are there any hordes of treasure or secret areas of the castle?"

"I personally donated nearly three-quarters of any gold I had to fund the building of Hogwarts. As did Godric and Helena. Helga was never one for material gain. There's a library in this Chamber that I've filled with books and journals. Godric enchanted the Great Hall. Helena was responsible for the Room of Requirement. Helga planted a forest around Hogwarts. I have a locket that I gave to my son, it's only value is the gold that it was created with. It was more a keepsake than anything. Godric had a blade, and his wand, which I understand has buried with him. Helga has that blasted cup, Helena's daughter ran off with her diadem. I made sure Helga's wand was buried with her, and she had that blasted cup. Rowena went through so many wands that there wasn't one she actually grew attached to. She came far too close to becoming a niffin many more times than we'd like to count, and her experiments also tended to explode spectacurley. "

"What are the properties of her cup?"

"She enchanted it to turn water into an alcohol that was smooth as glass, and could be drank like water. The four of us got drunk one night, and the next morning we had created a gargoyle and enchanted his hat."

"The Sorting Hat is the product of a night of drunken debauchery?"

Salazar froze.

"What do you mean the Sorting Hat?" He asked.

"New students wear the hat to be sorted each year. It sings a song, and then the students are sorted by what it see in it's head."

"That self important decrepit headpiece! I should have burned it when I had a chance." He muttered, a dark look on his face.

"So you didn't intend for him to do that?"

"No we didn't. Godric hated that bloody moldy hat. His grandfather gave it to him, it was at least a century old when he got it." Salazar looked angry, and slightly worried.

"Okay then."

Salazar shook his head.

"Back to your questions."

"Ancient and Noble Houses?"

"Hmm?" He queried.

"The Wizarding World is run by Pureblood families in a pseudo-monarchy that intentionally abuses and degrades muggleborns so that the few can live of the backs of the many."

"Hardly. At least in my days, purity and bloodlines didn't matter. I was born of two muggle farmers. Helena was descended from the mages of Rome. Godric was a descendant of Viking rune users that settled in England. Helga was the product of a village witch and a muggle man. Power, knowledge. Blood does not." Salazar explained, and took a sip of his tea.

"Parsel magic?"

"What is that?" He asked.

"Magic limited to only parselmouths. Powerful incantations only snake speakers can use?"

"Young wizard, when you say levitate, does a quill levitate?" Salazar asked.

"No." I said.

"Can you catch things on fire by speaking of fire?" He asked.

"No," I replied.

"Parselmouth is a language, albeit a magically imbued one, but it's just a language. I'm sure there were industrious speakers who used a bit of nonverbal magic accompanied by

parseltongue to showboat, but there are no spells in that tongue." Salazar said.

We went through my questions, I spent nearly two hours asking questions about various fanon ideas. Unfortunately, Lumos could not block the Killing Curse. I had high hopes about that idea. He told me to compile more questions as I thought of them, and I left the Chamber to find my friends and do my transfiguration homework.

The days and months passed in a flurry of magical research, homework, and socialization. I kept up with my chats with Salazar, and perfected my typewriter. Soon, it was time for exams. My first year of Hogwarts ended, and I boarded the train for a long summer at Wool's.


End file.
